The Costs of Sex, Love, and Brand-Name Peanut Butter
by Incidental Vegan Cannibal
Summary: There's a reason most grown slayers become prostitutes. There's also a reason most watchers spend their lives single. Subsequently, 2002 probably isn't the first time something like this has happened. (Set somewhere between Hell's Bells and Entropy, I think.)


Buffy never looked at the client's name ahead of time. She could never get into the right mindset before she was through the door, and even knowing the name felt too intimate for her unprotected mind. She could always tell from the expression of the person opening the door whether she was in the right place or not. Most of the time, she could even tell whether the person opening the door was hungry for the usual, for blood, or for trouble of some other kind.

Maya had only told her that her eleven o'clock appointment had requested someone "blonde" and "vivacious." Buffy hadn't felt particularly "vivacious" since her resurrection, but she was the only blonde who had been available, so she was making twice the effort to pretend to be excited.

The hotel was in a part of town Buffy vaguely remembered from her last visit with Angel and company. She was wearing a conservatively long coat and a scarf, but she still felt like everyone could see right through it to her short pink dress. She always felt like everyone could see right through to the hooker part of her. She wondered if people really could, but were just too polite to say anything. It would explain why Dawn's teachers always used that weird tone at parent-teacher conferences. Then again, that could also be explained by the fact that Buffy wasn't actually Dawn's parent, no matter how much it felt otherwise most of the time.

Still trying to psych herself up, Buffy knocked on the door and then stared at the gold numbering on the white wood. There was no peephole, just a painted-over bump where one had once been. It wasn't a shabby hotel, exactly, but the details were shabby. Buffy ground the sole of her boot into the faded crimson carpet. She hated it when they took forever to answer the door. This must be how skydivers felt while waiting to get to a high enough altitude. The floorboards quivered underneath her, and she kicked her nervousness and depression aside. She was gonna show this guy the best night of his life, as long as he wasn't a vampire or a creep.

She physically staggered backwards when the door opened. She'd thought she'd been prepared for everything, but she hadn't considered the possibility of her estranged watcher opening door 304.

"Giles?" she asked.

"Buffy!" He pulled her into one of his familiar Giles hugs, and the way he smelled made her dizzy after going so long without it. He released her and looked her up and down. "It's really you."

"Yup." She forced a smile. "In the re-animated flesh."

"Oh, you've cut your hair." He reached out with his left hand and teased a few strands away from her face. "I like it."

"Thanks." She shifted, trying to think of something else to say. This was just too weird to handle. Since when did Giles hire escorts? Had he done this while he lived in Sunnydale? And more disturbingly, he'd asked for someone "blonde and vivacious." Buffy didn't know what to make of that.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Oh," she said, shaking thoughts away like a dog shaking off water. "Oh, yeah, everything is peachy here. No apocalypse or anything."

"I see." He cleared his throat. "Then, I don't mean to be rude, but perhaps we could catch up in a few hours? I have a... um, an appointment, momentarily."

"Yeah, about that..." She took a deep breath. "I think your appointment is me."

He stared at her, forehead wrinkling. "I don't understand. Why would you-?"

"I told you I was turning tricks to pay the bills," she said, hurt. "Did you not believe me, or did you just, like, not read my letters at all?"

The realization flickered across his face, and his expression was almost comical. "Well yes, I read them, but I... I-I thought you were joking!"

"Yeah, so did everyone else. They still do, mostly."

A door slammed down the hall, and Buffy nearly jumped in response.

"Can I come in?" she asked. "I feel weird standing here to talk about this."

Giles stepped back to let her in. "I still don't understand," he said. "Why are you in L.A.? Why not Sunnydale?"

"The money's a lot better in L.A. More clients, more work, more money. I commute here on the weekends and crash in one of the agency beds, and then I'm back in Sunnydale during the week. Sometimes I patrol here, but Angel seems to have things pretty under control. Why are you in L.A.?"

"I needed to bring something to Angel. It wasn't the sort of thing I could send by post."

"Were you even going to come see me before you left?"

"I hadn't decided," he admitted.

She crossed her arms and pouted.

"But I'm delighted that you found me," he added quickly. "Truly, I am."

"It was kind of an accident," she said. "I guess the universe wanted us to reunite. I don't look at the names before I head out."

"Why on Earth not?" Giles frowned. "You could be walking into a, a death trap or something similarly dreadful!"

Buffy shrugged. "A name doesn't really tell me if someone is a vampire or not. Anyways, I like surprises, remember? I can take care of myself."

"Yes, of course." He sighed. "Sit down, Buffy. Those boots look uncomfortable. I really am pleased to see you, you know."

"Even in these circumstances?" She draped her coat and scarf over the back of a chair and then sank down into it.

"Of course." He sat down across from her. "I'm a bit relieved, actually. Initially, I thought you must be here to warn me of some grave danger to the Earth."

"Sorry, no end-of-the-world refrain this time," she said. "Unless you count Dawn's grades. Or my parenting grade with Social Services. Or my bank account. Or my credit score. Or my relationships with everyone. Or my mental health. But, in terms of places that are not my life, apocalypses are_so_ eight months ago."

"Ah." He polished his glasses. "Well, that's good, then. And I'm so glad we ran into each other. In truth, I desperately wanted to see you before I left, but I was afraid of how the others might handle an unexpected visit."

"You mean you didn't want them to try to convince you to stay."

"Something like that." He pushed his glasses back up his nose. "I wasn't convinced my resolve would hold. I miss you all terribly."

"So come back home!" Buffy gripped the armrest of her chair until she heard something crack. "This is stupid. You miss us, we miss you. I'm supporting myself. I'm supporting everyone, actually, in between bouts of saving the world. Why can't you come home? I won't ask you for anything, I promise. You can even mooch off of me like everyone else."

He didn't say anything. Rage surged through Buffy, and it hurt so much she wanted to curl into a ball until it passed.

"Well, I should go work for my grocery money." She stood up. "Dawn tried to start a riot the last time I brought home generic peanut butter. It tastes exactly the same, but she made all these gagging and choking noises while she ate her sandwich."

He looked at her like she'd just made a pop culture reference that had flown over his head.

"Which part of that was too slang-y for you?" she asked. "Did you not have peanut butter when you were growing up? Or riots?"

"Oh, no, I wasn't-" He reached for her hand. When she pulled it out of range, he balled his hand into a loose fist. "Would you like a cup of tea before you go?"

"No," Buffy said, even though tea suddenly sounded like the happiest thing in the world. "Like I said, if you're not going to get me naked, I should really get going. If you want someone else from the agency, someone different, I can-"

"I don't want anyone else." He stood up and grabbed her arm. "Please. Are things so bad between us we can't share a pot of tea? I know you don't have anything else scheduled for the next two hours, so if it's the money you're worried about, I'll happily pay you for your time. That's what escorts are paid for, isn't it?"

There was a hint of his old joking there, but she refused to smile for him.

"Yeah, technically," she said, as frigidly as she could. "That's what keeps it legal."

He dug his wallet out of his pocket and handed her a stack of twenty-dollar and hundred-dollar bills. "Stay. Please. Your company is more valuable than anyone could ever afford, but I'd like to catch up with you. Please don't go."

Dammit. Giles was a lot better at flattery than she would have guessed. "Okay, fine," she said. "But if I'm going to stick around, I need to call the agency. They get antsy when they don't hear from me. One time they sent the police, and there was this vamp, and..."

Her severe expression couldn't withstand that memory, and it cracked into a smile. Giles smiled back.

"Oh, dear," he said. "That sounds like quite the story. Will you tell me about it? Once you've contacted your agency, of course."

She used his phone to give the all-clear to Maya, and then settled onto the couch next to him. She didn't feel like talking about her run-in with the Los Angeles Police Department anymore, so she didn't say anything.

"So," he said at last. "How have you been? How has everyone been?"

"Kind of crazier without you," she said. "Willow's been abusing magic even worse since you left."

"That's unfortunate," Giles said. "What does Tara have to say about it?"

"She moved out." Buffy took his left hand in both of hers and ran her fingers over his many scars and callouses. "They broke up because of the whole magic issue. They're friendly again, I think, now that Willow's doing the whole 'cold turkey' thing, but they're still not back together. Dawn's been taking it pretty hard."

"I'm sorry."

"And you heard about what happened at Xander and Anya's wedding, right?"

"I did. Anya's been phoning me at least four times a week since I left."

Buffy hadn't even known that. "And you were just going to miss her wedding? Rude."

"I sent her a rather large check in my absence. If anything, I think it strengthened our friendship."

Buffy snorted. "That's probably her only consolation right now. That she gets to keep the money."

"Then I truly hope it sustains her. I had a feeling the wedding wasn't going to happen. All the same, I hate to think of her suffering."

Buffy rubbed the callous on Giles' middle finger, where forty years of holding a pen had thickened his skin. "Spike disapproves of my career choice."

"Oh?"

"We've kind of, um, been having sex since you left. He seems to think that makes him entitled to a say in what I do with my body."

Giles' expression never changed, but Buffy could sense the sudden tension in his muscles. "Oh."

"Pretty much."

"So you're doing this to spite him?"

"No. I'm doing this because I need money, and because it's the only job compatible with my other night job. But if it makes him mad, that's not really a negative in my book."

He didn't say anything, and she didn't know what else to say, and the silence became progressively more awkward. Giles pulled his hand back to scratch his neck, and Buffy was suddenly terrified that the visit was nearing its end.

"You know, you should really get your money's worth," she said. "'Blonde and vivacious'- that's not a coincidence, right?"

Now it was his turn to do the whole deer-caught-in-headlights look.

"Don't worry." She combed her fingers through his ruffled hair. "I promise not to tell the others."

"Talking with you has been far more enjoyable than anything I had planned for my evening," he assured her. "It's enough to see you alive and... relatively well. You needn't feel obligated to do anything else."

"Oh, really?" She climbed onto his lap, holding his shoulders for support. "I thought you were all about making me work for every single good thing I get in my shitty excuse of a life. Come on, let me work for my bus ride back to Sunnydale. That would make you happier, right?" It was a low jab, one she didn't really mean, but she was still hurt after all these weeks.

From the way he was looking at her, her words might have literally stabbed him in the gut. "Buffy, that's-"

She shut him up with a kiss, and used it to distract him while she unbuttoned his shirt. He grabbed her arms, just above the elbows, and she could tell from the way his hands trembled that he needed to be close to her as badly as she needed to be close to him.

They managed to shove clothing out of the way in record time. It didn't even occur to Buffy to grab one of the condoms from her coat pocket. She needed him as close as possible. She didn't know whether to memorize his face or to close her eyes and memorize his scent. Maybe if she could give him the most Earth-shattering sex of his life, he wouldn't go back to England. But that was a stupid thought, and she knew it. Giles had way more experience, and she was still figuring out exactly how to please herself in bed. Even turning on the kink would probably only result in passably good sex for him. He was totally going to leave her again, and all she could do was try not to act too desperate while she stole a few minutes of love from him.

"I've missed you so much," he said again. He was hugging her tightly against his chest, barely letting her breathe, let alone move. "God, Buffy..."

He laid sweet kisses all over her face, nuzzling her neck when he needed privacy. Buffy pretended not to notice his tears; it was the least she could do when he was carefully not-noticing hers. His nose tickled her ear. She wrapped her legs around him and pretended like he was staying in California for good. It was a weird situation, having sex with someone who was neither a lover nor a client, and her mind couldn't figure out whether it was supposed to divorce her equally confused body or not. In the end, she dissociated to the point of believing they were engaged in a spiritual exercise in the back room of The Magic Box. It wasn't until the endorphins from her orgasm faded that she remembered where she was and why. She grabbed his sweater to keep him close as much as to keep her mind from going AWOL from the present again.

He made her tea afterwards. She watched him stir three teaspoonfuls of sugar into her cup. He hadn't forgotten how she liked it. She chided herself; of course he hadn't forgotten. He'd been gone three months, not three years. It was her biological father, not Giles, who would forget stuff like that in just three months. He offered her the handle of the mug and then rubbed her bare knee. His touch was just stiff enough to tell her that he was feeling- not awkward, exactly, that wasn't the right word. Uncomfortable? Yeah, that was it. She looked up at his face, trying to make sense of it. He looked guilt-ridden and a little sad.

She stared at the dusty lamp and raised her cup to her lips. The tea tasted like late nights in the library and early mornings at Giles' apartment and... and home. The bridge of her nose seized up and she tasted the bitter homesickness flood in after the tea. If she thought crying would make Giles stay, she would do it. She didn't think it would help, though, so she swallowed and thought about her grocery list until the tension left her face.

"What kind of tea is this?" she finally asked.

"Jasmine Oolong," he replied. "I never travel without it."

"It's good. I haven't had good tea since you left."

"I could send some home with you."

"I'd probably set it on fire somehow."

He laughed gently. "Nonsense. You're quite the cook, if I remember correctly."

"It just wouldn't taste right unless you made it," she said.

"I see."

There it was again- that awkward pause that meant her time was almost up.

"I guess there's no chance you'll stay?" she asked.

He smiled sadly. "You know the answer to that, Buffy."

She put her cup on the coffee table and pulled her boots back on, yanking the buckles. "You know, you're lucky I didn't kill myself. Again. Without an apocalypse as an excuse, I mean."

"I knew you wouldn't."

"What?" She glared at him. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you. And I know that Dawn relies on you. I knew that if I was gone, you wouldn't go anywhere. In fact, that's partly why I left. Don't you remember?"

He was right, but that only made her desire to swear at him even stronger.

"Well, you can come back now," she said. "I'm self-sufficient, I promise, and I only think about jumping off a bridge seventy-five percent of the time."

"It isn't that simple, Buffy." He sighed. "We both still have issues to work through before we can be together."

"You make it sound like we're married or something."

"In a lot of ways, we might as well be."

She huffed and jumped to her feet. There was no reason to stay any longer, but she couldn't bring herself to open the door.

"Giles, are you ashamed of me? Because of my job? My second job, I mean."

"Gods, no, Buffy!" He looked personally offended. "I think you're quite clever for coming up with the idea on your own. I assume you didn't read about it in the handbook."

She shook her head. "I was flipping burgers and one of the guys I worked with complained that he felt like an underpaid escort in the new shirts. So it got me thinking, and I ended up here. Either I get paid for sex, or I get paid for slaying a vampire who thought he was ordering delivery. As long as I lift the vampires' wallets before they turn to dust, obviously. Why, does the handbook talk about this kind of gig?"

"Of the few slayers who made it to adulthood, prostitution has always been the most common career," he said. "That is, among the even fewer adult slayers who don't go rogue."

"What about the ones who do go rogue?"

"Thieving." He leaned against the wall. "Why do you ask, though? Are you ashamed of yourself?"

She hadn't thought about it before. After a moment of contemplation, she shook her head. "No, actually, I'm pretty proud of myself. I found a job I'm qualified for, that I don't hate, and that lets me pay my bills and buy the occasional Coach purse working, like, five hours a week."

"And you're comfortable with the work?"

"Like I said, I don't hate it. Sometimes it's fun, usually it's just work-level blah. It's slightly less soul-sucking than food service. And I don't have a pimp that beats me or anything. It's not the hell that all the after school specials made it out to be. It's just... work."

"I'm glad," he said. He pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm so glad that you're doing well in life."

"Thanks," she said into his sweater. She'd stretched the green wool in places where she'd dug her fingers in earlier, when she'd been afraid to let go of him even though he was still inside her.

"I have something for you," he said, releasing her. "Don't leave."

He returned after a minute with a book. Like all the books he owned, it was old and hard-covered.

"_The Murder at the Vicarage_," she read. "Thanks. I've been meaning to read this one."

He hugged her one last time, then kissed her cheek. "Take care," he said.

"You too," she said, then hurried out of the apartment before she could fall apart. She didn't slow down until she reached the bus stop.

The next bus wasn't until 12:05. Buffy leaned against the bus shelter and opened the book Giles had given her. She really had been meaning to read more Agatha Christie, especially Miss Marple.

Tucked between the pages for the first chapter was a folded letter and a check. She started to rip the check in half, and then saw that he had written in the memo space, "For brand-name peanut butter." That made Buffy laugh, so she folded it in half and tucked it into her purse instead. She could have managed without the extra thousand bucks, but she was trying to save for a car. The less time she spent waiting for buses, the more time she would have for other stuff. Slayer stuff.

She unfolded the letter, which consisted of only three sentences.

"Stay strong. I'm incredibly proud of you, and I look forward to seeing you again. Love, Giles."

She sank down on the metal bench and hugged the book and letter to her chest until the bus came.


End file.
